Unveiled Revelations
by The Diminutive Captain
Summary: AU. Darth Vader, Sith apprentice, is expressly loyal to the Emperor. Nothing could change that. Nothing. Except, perhaps, when he learns the identity of the pilot who is responsible for the destruction of the Death Star.
1. Prequel-Impact

Unveiled Relations

Prequel: Impact

The TIE fighter, badly damaged from the explosion of the nearby space station, hurtled towards the small planet below. Its pilot, the Sith lord Darth Vader, swore as he struggled with the sparking controls. The force of the blast had sent the small fighter too close to the planet for its weakened engines to fight the gravitational pull, and now Vader tried only to make his landing as gentle as possible.

As he neared the treetops, he attempted to level the ship's trajectory but succeeded only in adding a rapid spin to the fighter's already erratic course. One of the wings snagged on a particularly thick branch, simultaneously tearing the wing off and slamming Vader against the control panel. The TIE, now quite mangled, dropped through the trees, constantly colliding with the heavy wooden limbs. The air filled with the shriek of rending metal and the acrid stench of smoke. The ship finally crashed to the ground, ejecting Vader through the long since shattered view port. The Dark Lord landed in a graceless heap a few meters away from the burning wreckage of his ship and was still.

* * *

When he came to, the first thing he became aware of was the pain. His chest burned in a way he recognized as broken ribs and his head throbbed within its encasing metal helmet. He could feel neither his right arm nor left leg. The remaining limbs were responsive but painful to move.

After a few minutes of steadying breaths, Vader rolled himself onto his side and dragged his body across the dirt and rocks. He pulled himself towards the closest tree, using the Force to assist when his strength began to give out. When he reached the tree, he leaned himself against the damp trunk and began to assess his wounds.

The right cybernetic leg was disconnected at the hip. The left was crushed from the ankle down. Right arm was disconnected seven centimeters below the shoulder. Shrapnel in the left arm. At least three broken ribs. Possible concussion.

A list too long for Vader's liking. At least he had no internal hemorrhaging. If he did, he would be in even more pain than he was now. He hoped.

What bothered him most, though, was the intravenous tube in his right arm. It was his only means of taking in nutrients, and it was completely severed. The other injuries, though problematic, could be dealt with, but without that tube he would starve within days.

Vader tested his communicator, only to find it crushed from his ungraceful landing. Releasing a heavy sigh, he realized that he could do nothing but wait for a search party to find him.

Refusing to admit defeat and accept his helplessness, he started feeling inside his chest with the Force. Locating one of the broken ribs, he began to slide it back into place. The rib pinched a nerve and sent fire through his body. Gasping in pain, his concentration broke and his tendril of the Force released the bone, which thankfully slid into place. After recovering from the shock, he continued setting the ribs, having nothing better to do. He found four more, which all eased into place with far less pain than the first. Finally finished, he succumbed to his exhaustion and fell into a deep but uneasy slumber.

* * *

A pair of Alliance soldiers made their way through the forests of Yavin, grumbling to each other. The battle of the day before had sent numerous TIE fighters crashing into the planet, and teams of soldiers had been sent out to find as many crash sites as possible and collect any surviving pilots. These two were one such team.

Approaching the column of smoke one of them had spotted some thirty minutes earlier, the pair slowly made their way towards the clearing created by the downed fighter. They were in for the surprise of their lives when they found not another dead pilot like the previous three crash sites they had found, but a wounded and unconscious but very much alive cyborg in the form of the Sith Lord Darth Vader.

* * *

A/N: A short prequel to an upcoming fic. I'm not sure when the next chapter will be uploaded, but once it is, I will try to update regularly.

I welcome any feedback you would give. Constructive criticism is highly appreciated. Thanks for reading!


	2. Capture

A/N: Okay, so first let me clear up any confusion over the title. This story was meant to be called _Unveiled Revelations_. However, I mistakenly typed in my original title, _Unveiled Relations_. Sorry for any confusion this may have caused.

Secondly, I would like to thank everyone who read, followed, or faved this story, especially 1005 and Zigflorian, my first two reviewers.

1005: Thank you for pointing out that I was not clear. Anakin's limbs were all replaced by prosthetics, though I assume he has some feeling in them, assuming they are hooked up properly. Hope that clears up the issue!

* * *

Chapter 1: Capture

"Ten creds says this one's alive."

"You're on."

Rhilo Jast and Zek Parsa, the members of a two-man search team looking to capture any surviving Imp pilots stranded on Yavin IV, had found three crash sites so far. All of the pilots were dead on arrival.

Jast, ever the gambler, had been looking for means to entertain himself for the past five and a half hours. He had finally settled on a wager.

"I have to wonder, why would you assume this one survived?" asked Parsa. "It's not like any of the others did."

Jast smirked. "Aw, c'mon Zekkie, we gotta pass the time somehow."

"Yeah, but giving annoying friends my money isn't exactly my idea of fun."

Jast snorted and continued towards the column of smoke indicating another crash site.

The two walked in near silence for another several minutes. When they neared the downed fighter, they drew their blasters. Jast held his at the ready, should the pilot be alive as he predicted. Parsa's hung at his side.

"If you're alive," Jast started.

"Which he's not," interjected Parsa.

Jast ignored him. "Come out peacefully. We will not hesitate to fire on you if you do not cooperate."

When nothing happened, Parsa stepped forward. "Formalities are out of the way, now let's get 'im. Take out your wallet, if you please."

With that, he stepped into the clearing and around the mangled TIE.

* * *

Zek Parsa was a young man. So, naturally, he thought he couldn't make any mistakes. That was why when he saw not a dead Imperial pilot but a certain Dark Lord slumped against a tree, he froze in shock.

"Why so silent Zekkie?" came the taunting voice of Jast. "Realize that you owe me ten credits after all?"

That was enough to snap him out of his daze. He spun on his heel, sprinted back into the trees, and tackled Jast, his hand covering his friend's mouth.

"Rhilo," he hissed. "You are never gonna believe this."

Jast didn't believe it and, ignoring the pleading of his friend, went to check for himself.

* * *

Darth Vader hadn't realized he had fallen asleep until he was awakened when a hand rested on his shoulder. He opened his eyes and groaned.

"He's waking up," a voice said. "Get a sedative ready in case he tries something."

His vision, still foggy, began to clear, and the pinkish blob kneeling over him became a Mon Calamari dressed in a white uniform. Her hands moved to his chest, feeling under the control panel.

"There are some broken ribs, but he seems to have set them himself. We'll want to move him gently or they may fall out of place again."

Exactly what was going on had escaped him until that moment. The Rebels had found him.

Suddenly but predictably Vader became furious. To be found by _Rebels_in such a vulnerable state! It was unacceptable!

He lifted his good arm in a focusing gesture, and an extension of the Force tightened around the Mon Calamari's throat.

Her hands went up towards her neck as she let out a small strangled noise. One of the spectators, realizing what Vader was doing, began to yell.

"Let go of her! Sedate him! NOW!"

A prick on his neck, and the world went dark.

* * *

This time Vader wasn't in a forest when he awoke, but what was unmistakably a holding cell. He was still groggy from the effects of the sedative, so it took him almost a minute to figure out why he was there.

Oh, that was right, he was captured by Rebels.

OH.

He was captured by Rebels! Those weak, arrogant, self-important _fools_thought themselves capable of taking him, the great Lord Vader, apprentice of the Emperor himself, captive? What utter idiocy!

Vader forced himself to calm down. If there was anything he had learned over the past twenty years of serving the Empire, it was that he became rash when he was so infuriated. And in the hands of one's enemy, even an enemy as inept as the Alliance, one could not afford to make poor decisions.

He sat up to find that his prosthetic limbs were almost completely repaired, though not fully activated rendering him physically weaker than usual. The intravenous tube, he noted, had been left unfixed. He looked through the energy field at the young man standing guard outside his cell.

"Awake are we?" the man asked. "Shame. If you had stayed out for five more minutes my shift would've ended and I wouldn't have to be the one to report to Mothma. And here I was hoping to join that sabacc game today..."

Vader would have raised an eyebrow if he had one, though it wouldn't be seen through the mask anyway. He said nothing.

Sure enough, a slightly older man with messy black hair came in about five minutes later and addressed the guard stiffly.

"I'm here to relieve you, Lieutenant," he said, holding a blaster rifle to his chest.

The lieutenant smiled, lacking his comrade's professionalism. "About time, Zekkie. I thought you were never gonna show!"

The new man, Zekkie, frowned. "Lieutenant Jast, you are to remain professional at all times when on duty," he snapped. Eyeing Vader suspiciously, he added, "Especially around prisoners."

Jast ignored him. "By the way, you still owe me ten creds."

"Rhilo..." Zekkie trailed off, exasperated.

"Well he's alive, isn't he?"

"Well yeah, but..."

Jast had already left.

Zekkie sighed and shook his head. "Stars, Rhilo," he muttered. "You're really an idiot sometimes."

Deciding that he may as well gather information on his guards for blackmail, Vader inquired the new one, "A friend?"

"Yeah," the young man replied, seemingly oblivious to the fact that he was speaking to one of the Alliance's worst enemies and taking the opportunity to vent. "But I'm not sure why, he's such a moron. Even more immature than Luke, I swear..."

"Luke?"

Now Zekkie looked at Vader with a contemptuous smirk. "Yeah. One helluva pilot. He's nineteen but acts like a ten year old. I suppose you can get away with it after you blow up the Death Star though."

This man, Vader decided, liked to be on top of a situation, and was willing to give up potentially sensitive information to make sure he was in control.

"A prodigious pilot indeed," Vader continued. "I assume he is rather talented, to have accomplished such a feat at so young an age?"

Zekkie's smirk widened. "Heh, yeah. We've never seen a pilot like Luke Skywalker before."


End file.
